Wednesday: The Strongest Psychic - Chapter 244: Rejected offerings

Chapter 244 – Rejected offerings

Luke stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head.

The Wendigo was staring at him, and it seemed like she was the one who had called out.

Though her voice was far too rough to belong to a girl who looked about eleven or twelve.

Luke raised an eyebrow, curious, “You can talk?”

The Wendigo took a moment to answer. Her lips moved awkwardly, as if each word were a stiff, unused muscle refusing to cooperate.

“Y-yes… I learned… by listening to the men… who kept me… locked up,” she said.

She spoke slowly, like someone who had only recently learned the language and was still far from mastering it.

Luke tilted his head slightly, “First time you talk?”

“With someone, yes… This is… the first conversation,” the girl replied, nodding.

Luke stayed quiet for a few seconds, not because he found it strange for a girl to speak, but because of what it meant.

From what he’d read in texts, Wendigos, or at least most of them, weren’t supposed to be this rational.

That was why they were hard to categorize.

Outcasts? Monsters?

Something in between?

Most lost all logical thought. They gave in to hunger, to rage, to instinct.

They weren’t demons, since they didn’t feed on souls or come from another dimension.

But they also weren’t outcasts like psychics or vampires, beings fully aware and in control of their actions.

They were beasts, but not animals either.

They were what people imagined when they thought of the word “monster” like Hydes, but more extreme and powerful.

And unlike normal wild animals, if you ran into a fully formed adult Wendigo in the woods at night… you could literally die of a heart attack just from the sight.

Their strength was immense.

Even this Wendigo, who barely looked like a preteen girl, had survived a fight with Zarvok.

An intermediate demon with over forty tons of physical strength, monstrous speed, and reflexes.

And yet, she had endured.

She was weak, inexperienced, altered by years of captivity, mutilation, and normie chemicals, but still, she stood.

‘Her base strength must be high,’ Luke thought, a bit intrigued.

He watched her for a moment longer, not lowering his guard completely.

“What do you want?” he finally asked, his voice neutral, neither threatening nor openly interested.

The Wendigo hesitated. Her lips moved like speaking was a painful effort.

“I… go… with you,” she said at last, slow, clumsy, but clear in her intent.

She pointed at herself, then at Luke.

Luke raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the request.

‘Go with me?’ he thought, tilting his head as he studied her.

It didn’t feel like a trap. He sensed no hostile intent, but still… it wasn’t what he had expected.

“Why?” he asked after a few seconds.

The Wendigo looked down briefly, then shrugged, like she didn’t know how to explain something that abstract. Or maybe she simply didn’t yet have the words.

Luke frowned slightly. Was he suspicious? Maybe.

After all, it’s not every day a half-feral creature strong enough to stand against an intermediate demon suddenly chooses to follow you of its own free will.

And yet…

‘Could be useful,’ Luke thought.

The Wendigo’s strength was real.

Despite being weak and likely suffering the effects of years, of captivity, she had withstood Zarvok.

And not just survived: she stood her ground. Not many could achieve such a feat.

And beyond that, her rarity made her even more valuable. Wednesday would definitely be interested in seeing her, but not to experiment on her.

Though on the outside she looked like a gothic psychopath who might dissect someone out of curiosity, her moral compass was solid, firmer, in fact, than that of many who claimed to be righteous.

Wednesday didn’t play with innocent lives.

Maybe, if they were lucky, Wednesday would help her. Or at the very least… she’d observe her with that scientific fascination of hers, the same way a cat stares at something shiny for days.

Luke sighed, “Alright,” he said finally, crossing his arms.

The Wendigo looked at him and gave a faint smile, a mix of childlike and predatory, which for some reason was strangely unsettling.

“But first, I need to inspect your body,” Luke added calmly.

The Wendigo girl didn’t reply. She didn’t back away either.

She simply lowered her head slightly, giving him permission.

Luke raised his right hand and gently placed it on her head.

It felt similar to a normal human’s, though bonier, and slightly warmer than expected.

She wasn’t much taller than an average child, so the gesture looked almost brotherly… but there was no tenderness in his gaze.

Luke activated his clairvoyance.

Like a mental scanner, he perceived layers of muscle… and metal,

Normie devices. Tiny ones, embedded under the skin.

Trackers, control nodes… even a small mechanism near each ear: micro-injectors, likely designed to release a paralytic or destructive chemical if she lost control.

Luke frowned. He raised his other hand. Using his telekinetic control, he delicately extracted each of those devices.

They slid out smoothly, causing minimal damage.

The Wendigo didn’t flinch. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

She could feel it. Her instincts didn’t lie.

Once Luke had gathered all the devices, he held them floating in front of him.

A second later, they exploded into a cloud of metallic shards and sparks.

Then, his hand began to glow, softly, with a faint, soothing green light.

He ran his palm over the spots where the devices had been, then over the deeper wounds left by Zarvok.

And healed them.

The flesh closed with an unnatural speed. Even for a creature with its own regenerative abilities, the process was accelerated.

There was no pain. Only a warm sensation, like warm water after a storm.

“All done,” Luke murmured, taking a step back.

The Wendigo looked at him, briefly touching one of the spots where she had been injured.

She wasn’t smiling this time, but her expression had changed. Less feral. With a glimmer of hope.

Luke took another step back and raised a hand. A translucent sphere of energy formed in front of him, floating about half a meter from his chest.

“This shield can withstand fifteen tons of force. Hit it with everything you’ve got,” he said, looking at the Wendigo.

The Wendigo tilted her head with an animal-like gesture, hesitating for a second. Then she nodded.

She knew he wouldn’t be hurt.

She had watched him during the fight. If the shield broke, he could dodge easily. It was his way of testing her. She understood that, in her own way.

She tensed her muscles, bent her legs like a coiled spring, and lunged with her full body weight.

A direct punch.

Solid.

Almost soundless.

The shield shattered instantly. It didn’t explode or ricochet—it cracked at its center and collapsed like a glass orb crushed by an invisible press.

Luke analyzed the impact in his mind.

‘She broke it too fast for a fifteen-ton barrier… Must be around twenty,’ he thought, with a mix of restrained awe and growing curiosity.

That explained why she had managed to hold her own against Zarvok, though she shouldn’t have.

Zarvok had double the strength, along with more speed, experience, and endurance.

He could’ve killed her quickly, but he didn’t.

The most logical explanation was that the demon wanted to toy with her.

Even so, twenty tons of actual physical force was monstrous. Far above an average Hyde, and certainly beyond Tyler, the hybrid Hyde.

Especially considering her age, health condition, and the toll she’d endured.

Still, she couldn’t be that young. Despite having the proportions of a twelve-year-old girl, she must be older.

The Centralia incident had occurred decades ago. And everything pointed to this Wendigo having been in normie hands since then.

Which meant she could easily be fifty years old.

And yet, she still looked like a child.

Of course… Wendigos didn’t age like normal humans.

If a psychic could live up to 150 years if long-lived, Wendigos, according to records, could live around five hundred.

Their developmental stages were different, much longer. And yet, their cognitive and emotional maturity was equivalent to that of a marginalized being like a psychic.

Luke crouched slightly, placing a hand on the Wendigo’s head.

She looked up at him with intense, curious eyes.

“Don’t resist. Just… let go,” he said calmly.

She blinked once, then nodded.

Telekinesis wrapped around their bodies like an invisible dome, and they began to rise.

The ruins of Centralia faded beneath them, first the collapsed rooftops, then the scorched treetops of the ghostly forest.

The wind brushed against their skin, though the barrier kept the flight stable.

The Wendigo said nothing.

She simply stared out, caught between awe and tightly held tension.

Luke glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

‘Better not go too fast. Don’t want her to panic and rip my face off mid-flight,’ he thought.

He leaned slightly eastward, toward New York.

They traveled at about 250 km/h, so it took them an hour to reach Addams Manor.

Luke descended from the sky with surgical precision, guiding his telekinesis with care.

He landed in front of the black, gothic gates of Addams Manor, his feet touching down gently on a bed of dry leaves.

Beside him, the Wendigo landed as well, in perfect silence, taking in her new surroundings with unhidden curiosity.

Behind Luke floated the bisected body of Zarvok, a formless mass of blackened flesh and bone (Mortimer), and the staff of the dead elder.

Each one hovered in the air like trophies. Like offerings.

And as Luke touched down, he saw her.

Wednesday.

She was standing just beyond the open gate, waiting for him,

As if she had known the exact second he would arrive.

Arms crossed. Back straight. Motionless, like a marble statue.

She wore her usual black dress: modest and high-necked, with a pristine white collar. Her two braids hung stiffly over her shoulders.

Around her, a light fog drifted between the trees, accentuating her presence, as if the very atmosphere had conspired to frame her.

But what made Luke tense up wasn’t her figure.

It was her face.

That icy expression. Frozen. Almost lifeless. Her eyes locked on him like two black daggers.

‘How did she get here so fast…?’ Luke thought, sweat forming on his brow.

Wednesday was supposed to be at Nevermore.

He knew she’d eventually find out he hadn’t destroyed the teleportation stones.

What he didn’t expect was for her to be waiting for him upon landing,

like some figure of final judgment.

Luke swallowed.

“Hey… baby,” he said, forcing a confident smile that didn’t convince anyone, not even himself.

“I brought you some gifts.”

With a wave of his hand, he made Zarvok’s bisected body float toward her.

“No more, no less than a mid-level demon. In very good condition,apart from the cut…” Luke presented.

Wednesday gave it a brief, cold glance. Then her eyes returned to his, unmoved.

Nothing.

Not a raised eyebrow.

Not a flicker of interest.

‘Great… first offer rejected,’ Luke thought, but he still had more.

He turned his hand and gently guided Mortimer’s staff forward,

“A relic from one of the most powerful psychic houses, its strange runes still faintly glowing.”

Wednesday barely looked at it.

Less than two seconds.

‘Second offer dismissed. Shit,’ Luke thought, realizing he was out of options.

If this didn’t interest her, then the mangled blob of flesh that was Mortimer certainly wouldn’t.

He had one card left.

Luke turned his head to the left.

The Wendigo was still there, standing, watching the exchange with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.

‘Sorry, kid. It’s this or I’m done,’ Luke thought as he gently nudged the girl forward.

The creature took a few shaky steps, trembling under the weight of Wednesday’s glacial stare. The first time she’d looked at her with real attention.

“I don’t think she needs an introduction. You already know what kind of outcast she is,” Luke said, trying to put on a confident smile.

Wednesday recognized the fused skull shape, the glowing red eyes, the erratic posture, and the barely restrained bestial aura.

She knew exactly what she was looking at: a young Wendigo.

A creature whose existence was almost mythical, and yet, it was standing there, right in front of her.

Several seconds passed.

Each one feeling eternal for Luke.

Wednesday, without taking her eyes off the girl, spoke for the first time, “Why?”

The question wasn’t for the Wendigo. It was for Luke.

“Why what?” Luke asked, playing dumb.

Wednesday tilted her head just slightly to look at him, “Why didn’t you destroy the stones?”

“Because… the enemies weren’t that strong,” he began nervously. “You saw it. I came back without a scratch. It wasn’t necessary. Everything was under control.”

Wednesday repeated the same question, in the exact same tone, as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d just said, “Why didn’t you destroy the stones?”

Luke, knowing he couldn’t lie, answered honestly, “Because… I was sad and angry about saying goodbye to Edgar forever…”

Wednesday’s eyes blinked once. Her face didn’t change, but something in the air seemed to soften. An invisible pressure eased.

“I just wanted to hit something, that’s all.”

And then, Wednesday vanished in the blink of an eye. Luke closed his eyes, bracing for the reprimand.

He accepted it.

Wednesday had opened up to him, spoken from an emotional place using words she never used. She asked something simple: destroy the stones.

And he hadn’t done it.

The Wendigo watched from the side, confused. She had seen Luke split open the earth, cut through demons like paper, kill Zarvok effortlessly…

And yet, here he was.

Eyes closed. Waiting for punishment, from this girl in a dark dress, long braids, and a lifeless expression. Who was she?

Then Wednesday reappeared in front of him.

She didn’t strike him.

She didn’t raise her voice.

She simply lifted a hand, and gently stroked his cheek.

Luke opened his eyes, bewildered, ‘Huh?’ he thought, confused.

Wednesday understood his pain. In her own way, she was forgiving him.

“I get it… I would’ve been in the mood to slaughter things too, if I’d lost someone I cared about. I wouldn’t want help. I’d want my prey.”

“Oh… thanks,” Luke said with an odd expression, feeling the cold touch of her palm on his cheek.

“However,” Wednesday continued, her tone absolute, “this will be the last time you do that, if you have a safer way to win. You won’t be losing loved ones every day.”

Luke, however, gave a faint smile. It wasn’t mocking, or arrogant.

It felt good to know Wednesday cared that much about him.

“Yes… I will. I promise,” said Luke, nodding.

Then, he gently slid an arm around Wednesday’s waist, pulling her closer as he leaned in slightly.

“And now, don’t I get a welcome kiss after my grand victory?” he asked with a teasing smile.

Wednesday stared at him, “I suppose you’ve earned it…” she replied, rising onto her toes to kiss him.

When they pulled apart, the atmosphere fell silent. Or at least, it seemed that way, until they both felt it. A gaze.

They turned their heads slightly.

The Wendigo was watching them. More precisely, she was watching Wednesday.

Her eyes were wide open.

Her expression was hard to read, but it looked… confused, and thoughtful.

Then suddenly, as if something clicked in her mind, the small creature’s eyes widened even more. She clenched her fist with a look of revelation, and then slammed it into her other palm with enthusiasm, like she had just solved some ancient riddle.

She pointed straight at Wednesday with a thin finger and said, in a rough, gravelly but clear voice:

“Mother.”

Luke blinked.

Wednesday frowned slightly.

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